


Sell Out

by Karracaz, MaryStacy



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Gen, L.L. MacLeod, Star Trek: TOS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 11:28:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/722771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karracaz/pseuds/Karracaz, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryStacy/pseuds/MaryStacy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Story by Dusty Jones aka L.L. McLeod.  First printed in True Vulcan Confessions.  Amanda is reduced to selling on the streets of Vulcan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sell Out

**Author's Note:**

> In Memory
> 
> "Dusty Jones, writer, editor of LIAPITA (Logic is a Pain in the Ass) and True Vulcan Confessions. Affectionately known as Commodore Hotel to the August Party set, and one of the original co-chairs of the August Party. Worked alongside Mary Stacy and Mark Lenard Sarek at cons for juvenile diabetes. Died in 2003 from cancer.'[1]  
> Author of Sellout (a Krepe Paper) which appeared in True Vulcan Confessions  
> Under the name of L.L. MacLeod she wrote Little White Lies, Too Long A Frost and A Vulcan Tea Party which appeared in True Vulcan Confessions and LIAPITA

Sell Out

 

A Krepe Paper!

By Dusty Jones (aka L.L. McLeod) First printed in True Vulcan Confessions.

________________________________________________________________________

 

“Next case.”

He had never been arrested before. He had never even seen the inside of a police station. Never in his most terrifying of nightmares would he have imagined himself here and under these circumstances.

“The defendant will approach the bench.”

Defendant! 

He was the defendant, the miscreant, the law-breaker. He, who had always been on time, in line, and with his coupons ready.

“State your name for the record.”

“Sarek.”

Of course that wasn’t enough. He had to give the family name as well, and eyebrows went up all over the room. He was the only Vulcan there not in uniform – the case behind him was so inebriated that she could not walk, and the man who had gone before him had been arrested for unbuttoning his shirt below his clavicles. To be counted among the last was scandalous to say the least.

“Is this your first offence?”

“Indeed it is,” he told them, quite mortified by the question. He would not even be here now if it had not been for those flyers all over town.

“Your Honor! Your Honor!”

That voice, usually so dear to him, brought shudders to Sarek’s mind.

“Please, your Honor! This is all a mistake.”

Two law enforcers tried to restrain her, but there was no stopping his wife when there was somewhere she wanted to go, especially when it was somewhere she was not supposed to be.

“Mistake?” The judge consulted his viewer. “I have a full report here from the arresting officer.”

Amanda demanded to know the charge.

“Principally, soliciting without a permit.”

“That’s simply not true. My husband is innocent!”

“Husband?”

The judge was an older man, a fatherly-looking type. This could mean trouble.

“Come here, child.”

Amanda obeyed the judge’s gesture to come to the side of the desk where he leaned down to speak confidentially.

“How old are you, child?”

“Twenty-eight, your Honor.”

“And you live with this…man…as his wife?”

“Oh yes, your Honour.”

Sarek’s stomach tightened. She had picked a fine time to be cooperative and unevasive.

“Oh, and you see that little boy there? He’s our son.”

The clerk came for the processing forms. The judge gave them to him, saying “He’s in for soliciting in a residential area without a permit.” He glanced briefly at Amanda, “Also – for a possible sex offence.”

Spock was playing on the floor with his change-maker. His knees and elbows were filthy. Why had she not cleaned him up before she had brought him into a public place?

“But, your Honor, he’s innocent!”

“I doubt that. There were many witnesses.”

“But your Honor,” Sarek pleaded, “there was extenuating circumstances…”

The judge lifted one eyebrow and then let it drop. “Perhaps we ought to hear the whole story. Start at the beginning…”

 

He had thought to walk home, to enjoy the cooler weather they were having. His brain would work the better for it. Where the footpath crossed the driveway, one had to wait for the signal. It was impossible not to hear the conversation.

“What a shame. How the mighty have fallen.”

The signal let them walk to the other side and down past the shopping district. A woman passed them with a bathrobe like the one he had at home. Neutral was his favourite color.

“But making a public spectacle of their misfortune…”

“What could they do?”

“Not this.” The man shook the orange paper in his hand. “I would sooner die than sell my belongings on the street.”

This was terrible. A family reduced to poverty so desperate as to throw their dignity to the wind? Quite unimaginable – unthinkable! Sarek wished he could see what they were reading.

The footpath turned off at the development where he and his wife lived. It seemed that several people were going his way.

As he reached his street, Sarek noticed several strange vehicles parked along the curb. A velvet-upholstered desk chair was being loaded into a van with a hyperkinetic sehlat in the back. The chair looked a great deal like the one in his study, even down to the scratch on its leg from the time Amanda had chased him around the desk shouting, “give it up, Vulcan!”

The sehlat roared and there was an answering rumble from farther up the drive. Sarek certainly hoped that Amanda had I-chaya tied up. It wouldn’t do to have him break loose and have to pay dropping fees to the city.

“It’s this way.”

On their street? In the name of Surak! Who could it be? It must be the elder next door. She had always seemed so proper and dignified, but Sarek had it on good authority that she bought a lottery ticket each week from the Katullans.

As he rounded the last curve to his house, Sarek noted the pieces of orange paper tacked onto trees, taped to walkways, and scattered on the sand. Three of his neighbors passed him with averted and hands full of clothes. It was embarrassing to see one of your acquaintances reduced by financial indiscretion to selling their personal effects. He wondered how long it had been going on and what had finally happened to make them go under.

A piece of orange paper blew up to his feet. Sarek stooped to pick it up. He would have to tell Amanda to lower the volume on her tape player – the entire development would soon know that ‘lust would keep them together’.

The orange paper was printed in English with bright yellow letters with tiny little $ signs floating up and down the borders. It advertised something called a yard sale.

\- ‘clothing, furniture, baby articles. Used computer parts, our speciality.’ 

There was an address listed at the bottom. 

It was his!

The scene was mortifying. His clothes, his personal items, and – in the name of T’Pau – his computer components strewn all over the yard, and people – some of whom he mercifully did not know, were strolling about and picking over them like so many ripe fruits.

Sarek felt a tug on his jacket, “Yes, madam?”

The woman was Andorian but she wasn’t looking at him. 

“Stash,” she shouted across the yard, “I think I found the other part of that suit!”

Sarek had to dark between the moving armoires to avoid having his clothing ripped from his back. He had to find Amanda.

Someone was tugging on his trousers, “Really, madam, they are not for sale.”

A hand reached around his leg and a chin poked his thigh, “Hi, Daddy.”

Sarek reached down immediately and picked up his son. In all this chaos, the little thing was likely to be trampled under foot. “Spock, where is your mother?”

A grimy little hand flew up and pointed in the direction of the noisiest part of the lawn.

He took a deep breath. He took an even deeper breath and started toward the loud music and the even louder knot of people near the front door.

“Now, there’s enough for everyone. Let’s not be greedy.”

His father’s antique marble table (which he was alarmed to see was tagged with a price unreasonably reasonable) was draped in a cloud of filmy sleeping apparel. Amanda was holding up one article at a time and selling it to the highest bidder. Something was digging into Sarek’s chest.

“Sold for eighty credits to the gentleman in the blue sandals. Change? Spock, honey!”

Ka-chink! Kah-chink! 

Something moved on Sarek’s chest and a five-credit piece appeared. His son was wearing a coin changer around his waist.

“Here, Mommy.”

“Oh, hello, Sarek!” Amanda turned to the assembled crowd. “Everyone, this is our Ambassador to the Federation! Isn’t he wonderful?”

The faces that turned to him were actually filled with sympathy. He had to put a stop to this here and now.

“Might I have a word with you, my wife?”

“Of course,” she said. She took their son from his arms and stood him on the tabletop amidst her negligees and told him to take over. Then she and Sarek walked to the rack of logic manuals in the ‘two-for-one’ section. The area was deserted.

“What’s up, Cookie?”

“Amanda…” His mouth was dry, his tongue a wad of crêpe paper, “…Amanda, how could you do this to me?” 

“Oh, it was easy, dear! I got that printer on the south side to do the flyers in exchange for my back issues of Cosmo. She threw in the sign for free.”

For the first time in this nightmare, Sarek noticed the monstrous banner strung across the upper storey of their house, “‘Going- Out- of- Business-Sale’?”

“It was the only one she had.”

Yes. And most appropriate, he expected, once the Council found out about this, “But why, Amanda.”

“You told me that I’ve been spending too much money on things we already have, so I thought we could sell off all our old stuff and put the money toward new stuff.”

Spock was calling. They reached him just in time to see the elder from nex door slink away with the leopard-print negligee tucked under her arm.

“Let’s keep moving, now. Everything must go.”

Sarek saw the doctor from the end of the street lean toward her husband.

“She’s selling them, you know, because her husband won’t let her wear them.”

There went his reputation. People would interpret that revelation in only one way.

“Now, Spock, sweetie, you give that to Mommy.”

“It’s my money, Mommy.”

She shook her head. “Now where would a little boy get all of that?”

“I make tours,” he replied, jingling his pocket.

“What tours, Pookie?”∗

“Of you and Daddy’s bedroom.”

________________________________________________________________________

 

And that was all that Sarek could remember until the police had dragged him half-dressed from the bathroom, clinging to the portable bidet and threatening an Andorian with a crib blanket.

“I suggest that you put on your tunic, Mr. Ambassador. It is rather cool in the detention area.”

The detention area? “This is not my tunic, your Honor. It is a negligee which belongs to my wife.”

The judge leaned toward Amanda. “He forces you to wear such garments?”

The gods nodded then, for the clerk, who had been called away, was back with good news. “The Andorian’s agree to drop the assault charges if the accused agrees to sell the jacket at half price.”

Sarek agreed. He would agree to anything to get out of this place without further embarrassment.

“And how do you plead to the charges of ‘soliciting’, ‘littering’, and ‘disturbing the peace’?”

It had been Amanda’s yard sale, Amanda’s flyers all over the streets, and Amanda’s tapes that had described the ‘fifty ways to please your lover’. It was no use. On Vulcan, she was under age, and how would it look for a man of his years to place blame on a ‘child’? He was just barely getting off the perversion charge as it was.

“Guilty, your Honor, as charged.”

The judge slipped the reports into a carrier and handed them to the clerk.

“See the cashier to pay your fine, and you’ll be free to go.”

Sarek took Spock by the hand and led him away. He didn’t dare touch his wife until they were out of the court. He could feel the judge’s eyes through the rips in his t-shirt and his voice from across the room.

“We get all kinds in this place,” said the judge, “and from such a good family, too. Next case?”

Sarek found the cashier’s window and gave his name again. Another roomful of eyebrows went skyward. A piece of paper came back at him with an outrageous sum on it. 

“Amanda, hand me your wallet.”

“I don’t have it with me, “she said. “Where would I put it?”

She was right. She was wearing a pair of shorts that could not have fit closer if they had been painted on, and a t-shirt that coaxed ‘Make Me An Offer’.

“Where’s your wallet, Sarek?”

Was she teasing him? “It is in my jacket.”

“You didn’t leave it in the patrol car?”

“I did not leave it. Some Andorian is wearing it.”

The cashier was growing impatient.

“Pardon me, sir, but we’re about to close. If you can’t pay the fine, you’ll have to stay here until the morning.”

Spend the night in jail? Preposterous! In a hoarse whisper he said, “Young woman do you know who I am?”

She nodded, looking at the screen in front of her. “Inmate Number twenty-three. Would you prefer an upper or lower bunk?”

Amanda could go and – No, she would never be able to make it home and back in time, and by this hour, all the banks would be closed. If his pride were not at stake, a quick call to T’Pau…

“Forget it,” said Amanda, anticipating his suggestion. “She’s hosting ‘Bowling for Quatloos’ tonight.”

A guard appeared.

“Take him down,” said the cashier.

“It’ll be all right, Cookie,” said his wife in soothing tones, “I’ll bring the money down first thing in the morning.”

In the morning? The Federation media would be there by then – “Vulcan Ambassador Cooling His Heels In The Can.” He would be ruined. Sarek turned ot his wife in desperation. “Someone we know close by must have money.”

“But who?”

Ka-chink! Ka-chink! 

A small hand came up from below and deposited two twenty-credit pieces on the shelf outside the cashier’s window.

________________________________________________________________________

They emptied out his coin changer and his pocket of tour money. They almost had enough.

“How much did you charge?” Sarek asked his son. Spock pointed to a five-credit piece. Only that much? Insult on injury! Half the city must know by now that he slept with his wife. The misery – 

“Couldn’t you take this as a down payment until the morning? As it is, we’re going to have to walk home.”

The cashier flipped him an eyebrow, “This is the Shi-Kahr City Police Station, not T’Mart. We do not take layaways.”

“Be reasonable, madam. I can’t pay the fine because my wife – “

“We don’t take excuses here, sir, only cash. And as we say, ‘don’t do the crime if you can’t pay the fine’.”

“But, I can pay the fine if you’d just let my wife go home – “

“What seems to be the problem here?”

A young man wearing snug-fitting traffic gear stood near the door, drawing off his driving gloves. He looked at Amanda and flashed her more teeth than Sarek thought possible without smiling.

“Not in for speeding again…”

“Oh, no… this time it’s my husband.”

The man turned up his nose which made all those teeth look like a snarl.

“We’re in a real bind,” Amanda explained. “You see, neither of us has any money with us, and if he can’t pay the fine, my husband will have to stay here overnight.”

Somehow, Sarek thought, that possibility did not seem to concern the other man in the least.

“Don’t worry,” the officer told her. “It’s not so terrible down there. The alien’s quiet down by dawn. He’ll be all right.” 

With one eyebrow up, the man looked entirely too dashing. “And I would be only too honoured to drive you home.”

Honor, thought Sarek, was definitely not the word. Fortunately, Amanda did not agree with the policeman.

“But who’ll scratch his back for him in the morning?” She asked. “You just try to get him up without it.”

Would this never end? He was beginning to think he could grow fond of living in the jail – no yard sales, no irate council members, no ‘funsies’ in the middle of the night –

She was talking to the officer alone – where Sarek could not hear. Something the man said made her laugh. Why was she telling their family problems to a perfect stranger? Perfect. Sarek found himself trying to determine which of the two of them was wearing the tighter pants.

“My wife, attend.”

She hurried over to him too promptly. She must not have heard his call.

“It’s all settled, Cookie. Everything’s been taken care of.”

“Who was that…gentleman?”

“Oh, you remember Officer Snake, Sarek. He’s the one who brought me home when my chopper ran out of gas.”

Snake? Why wasn’t he surprised? Amanda took him by the arm and pulled him back over to the cashier’s window. 

“Racin’ Grayson?” The cashier was practically ecstatic. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place? Why, we’re set up a special account for you. You just sign here and we’ll bill your husband later.”

Now that was illogical. It was his money, but they would only accept Amanda’s money, but they would only accept Amanda’s signature on it. They left the station with no further incident.

________________________________________________________________________

 

It was already dark when they reached home; even without the screaming orange flyers and the crookedly slung banners, the house was unmistakable – it was the only house in Stately Estates with a pink plastic flamingo on the lawn.

“I am going to have my bath, Amanda,” he told her, “and my cup of warm milk and cookies, and then I am going to bed.”

“Well, not exactly….”

He turned to glare at her. “What do you mean, ‘not exactly’?”

“Well … it was your idea, Sarek. You made me do it.”

“I did?”

“You said the bed was getting so old and creaky that the noi8se was keeping poor little Spock awake all night.”

His face must have been showing because she reached over and took his hand. 

“Oh, don’t worry, Cookie. We’ll get a nice new one” Her eyes crinkled up in that way that was a warning to his dignity. “Maybe one with a water mattress…”

First, she had gotten him arrested; now she wanted to drown him. Well, he’d had enough. His logic had been tried and found completely inadequate.

“Things will have to change around here, Amanda – and change radically.”

“Take it easy, Sarek. There is nothing to get upset about.”

“I am not upset,” he said, beginning to pace. “Do you realize what difficulty we are in? I have no wallet, no identification, no credit cards – the Andorian who bought my jacket is most likely halfway to his home world by now. We don’t even know who he is.”

“Don’t worry, Cookie. We’ll just get his name off the mailing list.”

“The ‘mailing list’?”

“For the next yard sale.”

It happens very swiftly, he discovered and almost without notice – the slipping away of sanity – and all at once, he found himself devoid of any logical faculties. 

Without further hesitation, Sarek tore the clothing form his body and ran into the street. With any luck, he could be tucked safely away in a lower bunk before they served dinner on his cell block. 

The End.


End file.
